


Halogen Ice Cubes - or Tony and Tim go to Milsom Bay

by Ytteb



Series: Milsom Bay [4]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6236545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony gets an unexpected visitor during a weekend away. Some chaos ensues. What a surprise!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A brief, and silly, return to Milsom Bay on the North Carolina coast where Tony has a beach cabin and where his friend Millie runs a café.

Tony DiNozzo stretched luxuriously as he lay in bed and realised he could stay there all day if he wanted. He looked at the early morning sunshine coming softly through the linen effect roll-up shades he had fitted on his last visit. He listened to the waves gently lapping on the beach a couple hundred yards from his bedroom. He considered the luxury of three days away from NCIS demands. Yes, he thought, life doesn't get much better than this. He looked at his clock: 06.05, he would normally be up and out for a run but, he reasoned, he'd had a long drive down the night before, he'd worked hard all week, he deserved a lie-in and, most importantly, Millie's café wouldn't be open for another hour or so. He plumped up his pillow and, with a happy sigh, settled back down to sleep.

Just as his head hit the pillow:

Bang, bang!

Tony lay there stunned for a moment, wondering when his head had become so heavy and the pillow so hard that a collision between the two made such a noise. His investigative skills, and common sense, soon cut through his sleepiness and he realised that someone was banging on his door. At 06.05! On a Saturday! On the first day of a well-deserved weekend break! Tony groaned and hid his head under the pillow and waited. Silence fell once more and Tony began to picture someone tiptoeing away in embarrassment at a social faux pas; he managed a small smug smile when he realised what a forgiving sort of guy he was. His eyes closed once more as slumber welcomed him back.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Perhaps not so forgiving after all. Tony found himself standing at the door to his cabin without totally understanding how he got there. He took a moment to be grateful that the slight chill of his beach shack caused him to wear a tee and sweatpants in bed and then he flung the door open.

"What …?" he began before grinding to a halt at the unexpected sight before him, "McGee? What are you doing here?" Bizarre scenarios raced through his mind: Gibbs was injured, Abby was injured, everyone was injured. His apartment had blown up. The goldfish were sick. The Director was sending him to be Agent Afloat again, and then he managed to calm down enough to look at Tim who was standing on the doorstep with a happy smile on his face and an unfocussed look in his eyes. Unless Tim had been  _celebrating_  the untimely demise of the MCRT, reasoned Tony, there probably had not been any major catastrophe although something was clearly amiss in McGeeland.

Tony remembered that he was an experienced law enforcement officer and that McGee sometimes looked up to him as a mentor … if nobody else was available and so he should remain calm and collected. He took a deep breath, and then he took another.

"McGee," he said gently, "what are you doing here?"

Tim looked round in puzzlement and then shook his head. That didn't seem to be a good idea as his upper body began to wobble and weave. Tony reached forward and grabbed the nearest arm to prevent Tim falling to the ground.

Tim gazed solemnly at Tony's hand clasping his bicep, peered towards Tony's face and said in a confidential tone,

"Something's not quite right."

"You're not an investigator for nothing," observed Tony testily.

"No, I'm not," said Tim firmly as he tried to stand upright but then he sagged as he said mournfully, "Though that's what my Dad thought."

A pang of regret sliced through Tony when he saw the expression on Tim's face. He and Tim didn't go in for heart to heart discussions about inadequate relationships with fathers but that didn't mean that they didn't understand each other's issues and Tony had no wish to bring them up again.

"What's not right, Tim?" he asked.

"I don't know," said McGee, "but I thought I'd check with you."

"Why didn't you phone?"

"Oh," said McGee blankly.

"And why did you come to  _me_?"

"You're nearer than Gibbs," said McGee.

Tony wondered for a wild moment where Gibbs had gone,

"Yes," he said, "if I was in my apartment."

Tim looked around again, "This isn't your apartment?"

Tony sighed and turned Tim round towards the ocean, "That look like the Potomac to you?"

"Oh," said Tim again.

"Come in," said Tony, tugging at the arm he still had hold of, "you can tell me what's 'not right'".

He sat Tim down at his kitchen table and considered what to give him. If Tim was drunk then coffee would be the answer but Tony had never known Tim drink enough to get to a silly stage; he tended to fall asleep before his inhibitions crumbled. It seemed equally unlikely that Tim had been taking drugs: despite his assertion all those years ago that, 'yes, he had inhaled', neither Tony nor Kate had ever believed him.

"Did you hit your head, Tim?" he asked, wondering if a concussion was the cause of this off kilter version of McGee.

Tim felt his head cautiously and thoroughly, "No," he said eventually, "but thank you for asking."

"Then what's not right?" Tony asked.

"Who said anything was wrong?" asked Tim anxiously.

"You did."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"Oh," McGee gave this careful consideration, "something wasn't right."

Tony suppressed a sigh.

"So I came to ask you what you thought." Tony opened his mouth to ask, yet again, what wasn't right, when McGee finally managed to find new words to say, "I was really excited."

"About what?"

Tim thought about this for a few moments, "Everything. Everything was just really … really …"

"Exciting," finished Tony for him.

"Yes!" said McGee in a tone of wonder, "you see. I knew that you would know."

"But I don't, Tim," pointed out Tony, "I still don't know  _anything._ "

"Oh," said Tim in a disappointed voice. Tony had never realised what an expressive word 'oh' could be.

"Why don't you tell me what you did last evening?" suggested Tony.

"I went to see Sarah," said Tim.

"Your sister Sarah?" asked Tony, wanting to be sure they were both talking about the same Sarah out of the multitude who crossed the MCRT path.

"Yes," said Tim confidently, "my mother's daughter. And my father's."

"Good," said Tony, "and what did you do?"

"We went to see a band playing. At a club."

"Good," said Tony again.

"No, it wasn't," said Tim sadly.

"The band wasn't good?"

"The band was  _brilliant_ ," said Tim enthusiastically, "Abby would love them. Well, she would if they were a bit louder."

"So what wasn't good?"

This question seemed a bit too complicated for Tim to respond immediately and he gave it careful thought, "Victor," he said darkly after a few moments.

"Victor?" probed Tony.

"Sarah's  _friend_ ," said Tim, "he's a chemist."

"He works in a pharmacy?" said Tony.

" _No_ ," said Tim scornfully, "he's a grad student in biochemistry."

"And that's a bad thing?" asked Tony.

Again that curious pause to think, "He doesn't think that a biomedical degree from  _Johns Hopkins_  means much. We disagreed on the …"

It was early in the morning and Tony was still a bit sleepy and he was accustomed to tuning out McGee's technobabble so he didn't listen very closely as he tried to work out what was wrong with Tim. As Tim became louder and louder he heard something like 'halogen ice cubes' and decided it was time to stop the flow,

"Yeah, yeah, so you don't like Sarah's new boyfriend."

"He was scientifically unsound," said McGee indignantly, "he claimed that he'd developed a way of administering drugs via a new vapour delivery system."

"And that's impossible?" asked Tony, thinking that it sounded quite feasible to him.

"Not impossible," said McGee grudgingly, "but it would be very inaccurate. He suggested that he could give a measured dose of a painkiller simply by squirting at someone."

"Sounds great," said the needle phobic Tony.

Tim went off on another techno-rant which Tony efficiently tuned out while he thought.

"You didn't get on the bad side of a chemist, did you?" he asked eventually in a worried voice.

"What if I did?" asked McGee.

"Oh, Timmy," said Tony, "never, ever get on the bad side of a chemist. They have all those … chemicals … that can do things to you."

Tim seemed momentarily more alert, "did  _you_  ever get on the bad side of a chemist?"

"That is a story for another day," said Tony loftily, "possibly. Let's just say that green hair and purple eyebrows are not a good look on DiNozzos. But to return to your 'not rightness'. What happened?"

"Sarah gave me this care package that Mom had sent for me," he paused, took a Transformers lunch box out of his backpack and clutched to his chest, "and then we went off to the club … with Victor."

"And?"

"And he insisted on spraying this 'man cologne' over me," said McGee, "said that he didn't like the smell of my  _Johns Hopkins essence_."

"Is that a real thing?" asked Tony, momentarily distracted by the thought that there might be a cologne he could use for the occasions he was trying to project a thoughtful, academic persona.

"No," said Tim, as if it was obvious, "but there is a cool M.I.T. aftershave you can get in the gift shop on campus."

"And when did you start feeling 'excited'," said Tony, returning to the matter at hand, "after the spraying episode?"

"Yes!" said Tim, "yes! That b … b… biochemist!"

"Come on, McVictim," said Tony, "I'm going to get dressed and then we're going to call Gibbs."

"Wow," said Tim, "I didn't realise you don't like talking to Gibbs in your pyjamas. How do you manage when he calls you in the middle of the night?"

"What?" said Tony, "what you talking about?"

"You needing to be dressed before you'll speak to the Boss. What's that about?  _I've_ spoken to Gibbs wearing just my boxers lots of times."

Tony paused to consider this but Tim hurried on, "d'you mean I wasn't meant to do that? Is it in the handbook that you have to be fully dressed before you talk to your supervisor? But how do they know? Oh, no!" he wailed, "I once answered Director Vance's call when I'd just got into the shower!" McGee put his face in his hands as he contemplated the horror of what he had done in a state of undress.

"McGee!" said Tony sharply, "I'm going to get dressed because we're going to go down to Millie's for breakfast and I'll call Gibbs on her landline. Cell reception's not good here."

"Oh," said McGee in a relieved tone which showed once again his versatility in the use of the word 'oh'.

Tony took the precaution of locking the front door while he had a quick shower and he also gave McGee a tourist brochure about Milsom Bay hoping that the pictures would keep him happy. Tony cut his usual routine to the bone and was out in twenty five minutes but he discovered that the picture book had failed to snag his visitor's interest for long. McGee seemed to have passed the time by emptying all the kitchen cabinets and was engaged in creating an odd tower out of Tony's china, saucepans and kitchen gadgets.

Tony refrained from comment and simply directed Tim outside. There was a momentary hold up while Tim hurried back for his Transformer lunch box and another when Tony forgot he had locked the door but they were soon on their way. Tony decided it would be best to walk the half mile or so down to Millie's; although Tim still seemed to be a bit unsteady on his feet he thought the fresh air would do him good.

Millie gave Tony her customary placid welcome and took the extra visitor in her stride. The Milsom Bay folk were used to the unexpected when Tony was in residence.

"Millie," said Tony, "do you mind if I use your phone? I need to call Gibbs … and Ducky. And would you mind keeping an eye on Tim? You remember Tim, don't you? He's a bit … er … not himself at the moment."

Millie nodded calmly and looked at McGee who had something of the look her young grandson Joe got when he was overexcited but about to crash from exhaustion.

"Sure," she said, "and I'll get you some breakfast. Your usual, Tony? And what would you like, Tim?"

"Um," said Tim thoughtfully.

"He'll have the same as me, Millie," said Tony feeling he couldn't live through another epic decision making process from McGee. He held his breath for a moment wondering if Tim would object but Tim seemed to be winding down and not to have the energy for his traditional argument with Tony over what was the best thing to have for breakfast.

Tony went into Millie's kitchen where the phone was, "Boss," said Tony, when he got through, "we've got a problem."

Gibbs' sigh said all there was to say about Tony's propensity to find trouble at every opportunity.

"It's Tim," continued Tony.

Gibbs' second sigh showed his recognition of the disasters likely to occur when Tim and Tony got together.

"Hey, it's not my fault," said Tony, as he effortlessly translated the meaning of the sighs.

"Go on," said Gibbs wearily and warily.

"Tim showed up here. At the crack of dawn. He said something wasn't right."

"Why'd he come all the way down to you?" asked Gibbs.

"You think I didn't ask him?" said Tony, "he said I was nearer."

"But …"

"I know, Boss, but logic isn't being Tim's friend at the moment. Something to do with halogen ice cubes."

"DiNozzo!" barked Gibbs in a voice which suggested he'd only had two cups of coffee so far that day.

"OK. Short version. I think Tim was sprayed with some of crazy drug thing cooked up by Victor."

"Uh, I think that was a bit too short," said Gibbs.

"Tim and Sarah went to this club with Sarah's boyfriend. He's a biochemist. Got into a geek argument with McScientist. Victor, the boyfriend, said he could spray drugs on to people. McGeek disagreed. Victor sprays McGee. McGee got excited, then he got worried, then he drove six hours down to me."

"Uh."

"I think that's a pretty good summation, considering," said Tony defensively, "I've had an exciting morning, woken up by a deranged Probie who's tried to make a replica of the Eiffel tower in my kitchen … and I haven't had my breakfast yet," he finished with a whine.

"OK," said Gibbs soothingly, "you go back to McGee. I'll get in touch with Ducky and with Sarah. We'll get hold of this Victor and see if he did anything. You sit tight."

"Yes, Boss. Sorry, Boss. Thank you, Boss," said Tony in a calmer voice. He went back to the café where he could smell the enticing aroma of bacon and scrambled eggs but lurched to a halt when he realised that McGee was missing. A picture flashed into his head of him having to explain to a desolate Delilah and aghast Abby that he had lost Tim and then he heard an unlikely sound. He followed the noise and found Tim in the yard shooting hoops with an uncharacteristic accuracy.

"Come on, McMichaelJordan," he said, "time for your trial with the Washington Wizards later."

"No, I want to play for Knicks," said Tim even as he allowed himself to be led away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Millie's cooking was renowned throughout Milsom Bay and on that day proved to have healing powers as well. Tony noticed with relief that Tim seemed to calm down as he ate the bacon and eggs and wiped the plate clean with toast although he was less relieved to see that Tim was casting covetous eyes at his plate.

"Agent Gibbs is calling for you, Tony," said Millie coming back in with a refill of coffee.

Tony sighed and looked regretfully at the rasher of crispy bacon and last mouthful of fluffy scrambled eggs which he had been saving as a perfect last mouthful but he got up dutifully: it wouldn't be the first, or last, thing he had sacrificed on the altar of a Gibbs' summons.

"Hey, Boss," he said.

"We're on our way to find Victor," said Gibbs, "Sarah McGee told us where they went clubbing last night so we're going there as well to check no-one else has been affected."

"McGee and clubbing," mused Tony, "somehow those words just don't go together." There was some quality in Gibbs' silence that made him continue, "Whatever it is that McVictim has taken has given him superpowers."

"Superpowers, Anthony?" asked Ducky. Tony realised that Gibbs must have put himself on speaker and that the chances of returning to the breakfast table and finding his bacon and eggs waiting for him had just gone down. With Dr Mallard joining in there was little likelihood of a brief conversation.

"Hi, Ducky," he said, "yes. McGee was shooting hoops before breakfast. Ten shots out of ten while I was watching."

"Astonishing," said Ducky.

"Not really," said Tony, "I could do that any day of the week. But it  _is_ astonishing for McGee, although a couple of shots were a bit lucky."

"No, no," said Ducky, "I meant it was astonishing that anyone should be 'shooting hoops' before breakfast. I suppose it is an American thing."

Gibbs and Tony wisely kept quiet and waited to see if Ducky would pursue this line of thought but it seemed perhaps that Ducky had not yet had breakfast either and was in more than a hurry than usual.

"Anthony," he said.

"Yes, Ducky."

"You need to arrange for Timothy to have blood drawn and other … er … samples taken. I will contact the local medic there. Remind me of his name, if you would be so kind."

"Doc Murray. If he doesn't pick up, call Millie. She'll probably know where he is."

"Ah, the joys of a small community," said Ducky, "it reminds me of a time when I was a locum in New South Wales. The locals always knew where I was, which on occasion proved to be a tad embarrassing. I remember one day when Parson Jamieson had got stuck while attempting to remove a mouse from the church organ and they had to call me out to assist but I was …"

"DiNozzo," interrupted Gibbs, "go back and keep an eye on McGee. Don't leave him alone until we figure this out."

"Yes, Boss," said Tony with a feeling of regret that he wouldn't find out the ending of yet another of Ducky's tales. He took a moment to wonder how many of Ducky's stories  _had_  an ending or whether he relied on being interrupted by Gibbs. He took this disturbing thought back to the breakfast table with him where he found an empty plate and a NCIS Special Agent who looked like a cat who had swallowed the cream.

Tim tried to meet his eyes guilelessly, "It wasn't me," he said and then, as Tony did a DiNozzo version of a Gibbs stare, went on, "it was going cold and you always say it's a crime to waste Lily's food."

"Millie's food," corrected Tony finding himself unable to complain too much. He had long ago lost count of the number of times he had stolen Tim's food and it  _was_  a sacrilege to let Millie's cooking go cold. He couldn't help but sigh and then discovered that Millie seemed to have superpowers of discernment as she brought them both in another plate of bacon and eggs.

"Did I ever tell you I love you?" asked Tony.

"Only every time I serve you food," said Millie placidly.

"Thank you, Mrs Macey," said Tim.

"Lacey," corrected Tony again even as he stretched a hand over to Tim's plate and snatched a piece of bacon away.

"Hey," protested Tim through a mouth already full of bacon and eggs.

"Eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth," said Tony sententiously.

"I don't like eating eyes," said Tim as he peered anxiously at his plate.

Tony sighed as he realised that Tim's recovery was not yet complete, "I know, that's why I took it," he said.

"Thanks, Tony," said McGee gratefully.

"Eat up, McGourmet, we need to find the doc."

NCISNCIS

Dr Murray was in his surgery trying to catch up with paperwork and his eyes lit up at the sight of Tony and Tim.

"Dr Mallard phoned to tell me to expect you. I must say that you certainly liven up this place, Tony."

"Glad to oblige, Doc," said Tony a little morosely.

"Right," said the doctor, "I need to take some blood for a full work up but let's get the other sample done first."

"What?" said McGee, playing hard to get.

For answer, the doctor held out a small cup.

"Oh," said McGee sadly.

"Come on, Tim, time to pee in a cup," said Tony cheerfully and then less cheerfully remembered Gibbs' order not to let Tim out of his sight so he steered McGee towards the restroom. It was some time before they returned, it seemed that the manual dexterity and accuracy which Tim had displayed while shooting hoops had deserted him when it came to other matters that required accuracy of delivery.

Dr Murray had seen most things in his thirty years' experience as a doctor in Milsom Bay so was not unduly concerned by Tony's ostentatious drying of his shoes when he came back.

The doctor had been joined by his nurse.

"This is Nurse Ratched," he said.

"Wow," said Tony, "that must be kinda tough."

The nurse smiled, "you telling me. I nearly didn't get married to Richie when I realised what my surname would be."

For once in his life, McGee got a movie reference, "I don't want my blood taken," he announced.

"McGee, don't be a baby," said Tony sternly, "it's not as though this is a psychiatric unit. Nurse Ratched isn't a  _mental_ nurse and there's not a cuckoo in sight."

"Don't worry, honey," said the nurse, "I promise I'll be gentle".

McGee looked anxiously at the doctor and Tony who nodded approvingly. Tim swallowed bravely and then watched with fascination as the needle entered his vein and as three vials were filled with blood. Tony spent the time gazing out of the window and watching the clouds scud past.

"All done," said Nurse Ratched cheerfully.

Tony withdrew his gaze from the clouds with a studiedly nonchalant air and nodded with business-like satisfaction.

"Don't I get a lollipop?" asked McGee plaintively.

"I'll hold on to these samples until Dr Mallard sends me instructions," said Dr Murray. "Now, young man, I think whatever you've ingested is probably working itself out of your system. I suggest taking it easy for the rest of the day, get some fresh air and drink plenty of liquids," he looked up at Tony, "you all right, son? You look a bit peaky there."

"I'm fine," said Tony quickly, "fine and  _dandy_. Nothing wrong here, no nothing wrong at all. Let's go, Probie."

"Thank you, Doctor," said the ever polite Tim, "and thank you, Nurse Wretched."

"Ratched," insisted the nurse although even as she did so, she wondered if she should be so insistent on the correct pronunciation of the name that struck fear into all who heard it.

Tony steered Tim out of the surgery and was surprised to hear him giggle and mutter, "That was fun." A suspicion began to cross Tony's mind that McGee might be milking this a bit; he was tempted to smile but then his eyes narrowed as he remembered McGee's 'accidental' spillage on his designer sneakers.

NCISNCIS

Tony brought McGee back to the hut after the visit to the doctor and, for a while, McGee was content to continue building the utensil tower. He soon become restless, however, and Tony remembered the doctor's prescription of fresh air and took Tim out for a walk along the beach.

Tony didn't have much experience of dog walking but he suspected that escorting Tim that day was a good introduction. McGee kept breaking into a run when he saw something that sparked his interest and then wait impatiently for Tony to catch up. Unlike a dog, however, Tim then demanded answers about the particular plant, stone or tree he had spotted. Fortunately, Tony soon realised that Tim's brain was still doing an imitation of a butterfly and he didn't pay much attention to any answers before something else snagged his attention.

This went on for about an hour and then Tim gradually began to flag. His running ahead slowed down and he ambled alongside Tony and then he began to lag behind before abruptly sitting down on a clump of grass. Tony breathed a sigh of relief and dropped down beside him. Tim gazed out to sea and said,

"I can see why you like it here. You can see for miles, it's beautiful, so peaceful". He paused and thought for a moment and then went on, "actually, I can see why Gibbs would like it. You, I'm not so sure about."

Tony huffed a laugh, "I'm surprised too, McProbing. Peace, natural beauty and small town community don't really go with DiNozzo, do they?"

"Millie's cooking is a draw though," observed Tim.

"You know me so well, McSagacious!"

"I thought I did," confessed Tim, "but this is a bit of a curveball."

"Doesn't quite compute, eh?"

"No. No, it doesn't," admitted Tim.

"What can I say, Tim? I like the people. They were welcoming at a time I needed a welcome. They don't criticise. They don't expect anything more of me than that I'll turn up and stay every now and then. They're easy to be with."

"Unlike?" asked Tim.

"Unlike almost everyone else in my life, Tim," said Tony, "including me."

Tim nodded, "Well," he said sleepily, "I'm glad you've got this place," and he clumsily patted Tony's shoulder, "and I'm glad Millie gave me the extra helping of bacon and eggs," and then he lay down, put his head in Tony's lap and determinedly went to sleep.

Tony patted Tim's shoulder briefly, oddly moved by his declaration and then he settled down to watch the waves beating on the shore while guarding his companion.

A few hours later Tony sighed as his stomach began to rumble but he felt he had to stay where he was until Tim woke up. It seemed, however, that the rumbling sound in Tim's ear acted as an alarm and he suddenly opened his eyes and then sat up. He looked puzzled for a few minutes and then blushed.

"Mind and body working together again, Special Agent McGee?" asked Tony.

"Um, yes, I'm sorry, Tony," said Tim, "I can't believe I drove all this way and … and …"

"Woke me up at the crack of dawn? Emptied all my cupboards? Stole my bacon? Demanded a lollipop from Nurse  _Wretched?_  Peed on my shoes, my very expensive _designer_  shoes?"

"Oh, God!" said Tim, "I'm so sorry. I …"

"Not your fault, Tim," said Tony magnanimously, "it was almost worth it to see you shooting those hoops."

"Thanks, Tony," said Tim in relief.

"But you're still going to tidy my kitchen."

Tim nodded fervently.

" _And_  buy me a new pair of shoes."

Tim nodded a bit less fervently.

"Come on, let's go and get something to eat," said Tony.

"I've got some nutter butters if you want a snack," offered Tim, "they were in the care package from Mom."

Tony stared at Tim. He must be feeling contrite to be freely offering up nutter butters, usually Tim guarded them in a disturbingly obsessive way. Nutter butters weren't Tony's snack of choice but he graciously took one.

"I'll have it later," he said.

They went back to Tony's cabin and, while Tim dismantled the Eiffel Tower, Tony rummaged for something to make for lunch. His cell rang before he managed to find anything edible.

"DiNozzo," he said.

"Tony, Tony, Tony! I got through at last. I've been trying for ages!"

"Abs," said Tony, "cell reception patchy here. I was on the beach. With Sleeping Beauty. Well, Sleeping Something."

"How is Timmy?" asked Abby, "put me on speaker. I want to speak to both of you. I don't want to choose."

Tony obeyed, and Tim said,

"I'm fine, Abby. Just woken up and everything feels normal again."

"I was so worried, Timmy," said Abby earnestly.

Tony was hungry and thought Abby's narration of her worrying morning might go on for some time so he tried to hurry things along,

"How is Gibbs getting on with Victor?"

"He's got him in interrogation now. I can see what Sarah sees in him. Very tall, dark and handsome, brooding …" she seemed to sense some discontent from her listeners, "oh, guys, he's not as handsome as you two. I'm just saying, he's good looking," there still seemed to be a current of hostility from Tim, "I mean, good looking for a biochemist."

Tim finally relaxed and said, "What has Gibbs found out?"

"Well …," said Abby a little reluctantly, "nobody else at the club has reported any odd symptoms. Which is good. And I tested what he sprayed over you …"

"And?" asked Tim.

"And, it's cologne. Not a very nice cologne. Not one I'd recommend for anyone," she felt the need to make amends for liking Victor, "but I guess it's good enough for a biochemist."

"No noxious ingredient?" asked Tony.

"No," confirmed Abby, "but …"

The line went dead as the signal failed.

"Don't worry, Tim," said Tony, "they'll find out what caused this. Gibbs is on the case. Come on, let's go down to Millie's. We'll call DC from there. We need to know what to do with the fluids from the mcbody."

Tim tried not to worry but, as he walked with Tony, he began to catalogue all his symptoms and wonder if he was suffering from some insidious and previously unknown disease. He was just trying to gain some comfort from the thought that scientists might name the new syndrome after him and wondering if it should be McGee-itis or Gemcity-itis when he realised they had arrived at Millie's.

"You go in by yourself, Tim," said Tony, "it's such a lovely day, I want to walk along the pier. The sparkle of the waves is beautiful at this time of day. Here," and he stuffed an empty nutter butter wrapper into Tim's hand and set off at a run.

"OK," said Tim uncertainly, but before he could say anything else, his phone rang.

"McGee," he said.

"Timmy, Timmy!" said Abby happily, "have you put me on speaker again?"

"No point," said Tim, "just me here. Tony's gone for a walk."

"O-o-h," said Abby and Tim could hear the pout in her voice.

"Gibbs get anywhere yet?" asked McGee.

"Oh yes," said Abby, "it was so cool."

"What happened?"

"Ooh, wait, I'll go on speaker. Ducky and the Bossman have just come in."

"Timothy, how are you feeling?" asked Ducky.

"Much better, Ducky, I had a long sleep and woke up feeling normal again." Tim paused, realising it felt odd not to have Tony chip in with some inappropriate comment.

"I fear you were right to be suspicious of Victor," said Ducky disapprovingly, "although that appalling cologne was bad enough."

"What did he do?" asked McGee anxiously.

"Although, to be fair," said Ducky conscientiously, "he must have a brilliant mind. The compound he developed is ingenious and, in the right hands, and with a great deal more research and development, could yield tremendous benefits to a wide range of people …"

"Ducky?" asked Tim in growing alarm.

"But it is just in the early stages of development and is far too unstable and unpredictable to be tested on living subjects. It was really most irresponsible of him."

"Ducky? What does this stuff do?"

"Well, as I said, it is unpredictable. Victor hopes it can be used to enhance people's senses and abilities but I think, from the little I can determine, that its effect would vary widely depending on the recipient's physiology. I would guess that all subjects would experience a sense of euphoria to begin with but that may be the only constant."

"Ducky!" said Tim once more, "what did he do? Abby said the cologne was just cologne."

"Indeed," said Ducky, "and you were right to question the efficacy of that as a mode of delivery. Although the idea has great merit. As I said, the young man has a brilliant mind."

"Gibbs!" shouted Tim in desperation.

"He laced the nutter butters," said Gibbs succinctly, "so don't eat any more of them."

"No, Boss, I won't," promised Tim even as he caught sight of Tony dancing along the pier. As he watched, he saw Tony suddenly stop, peer out to sea and then drop bonelessly into the sea.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tony wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to go for a walk along the pier but the blue sky, the sun glinting on the waves to create little diamond points of light, the light fluffy clouds being driven by the rising wind all suddenly seemed to make the world a beautiful place which could best be seen from the pier – and there was no time to waste! Tony broke into a run and raced towards the pier.

When he got there, running seemed almost sacrilegious. Such a glorious place demanded a more considered response. Dance, he realised, that was what was needed! Long suppressed memories flooded back: his mother trying to teach him the waltz in some fancy restaurant; a sports coach employing a ballet teacher to try to instil grace and control into a teenage basketball team and Ducky taking him and his mother to the ballet leading to Tony having to defend his honour against a Mrs Mallard who was enchanted to find that her son had thoughtfully brought the Italian gigolo along.

Yes, thought Tony, dancing was the way, the only way, to express the joy of a perfect day and he leapt into the air in what he thought was a  _jeté_  and then giggled at the thought that he was doing a  _jeté_ on a jetty. Dancing and poetry were a perfect combination to celebrate the ecstasy of living, he decided. He performed another  _jeté_ and as he stumbled a bit on landing tried to turn into a  _pirouette_ which led to him tumbling to the ground. He lay there for a moment or two and watched the clouds soar past; he spotted a hippo fly past and made a note to tell Abby but was then distracted by something that looked like an enormous cup of coffee float on to the horizon.

He lurched to his feet and did a few pliés to settle himself before setting off on a series of  _jetés_  which brought him to the edge of the pier. He gazed across the sparkling waves and then found his mood beginning to change as the diamond points of light seemed to look more like tear drops and he grew sad at the thought of so much sorrow in the world. Tony's limbs began to feel heavier and heavier and his head seemed to be even heavier, so heavy that he found himself leaning over the water until gravity won and he toppled head first into the sea.

NCISNCIS

"Tony!" shouted Tim, as he saw Tony take a header into the ocean.

"What's going on? What's happened? Tim?" came a chorus of voices from the other end of the phone.

"Tony's fallen into the water," said Tim.

"Go get him!" said Gibbs.

"Are you up to date on your CPR?" asked Ducky.

"O-o-h, Tony!" wailed Abby and a Bert fart sounded in sympathy.

But Tim didn't hear any of this. He had flung the phone down and was running towards the pier.

"Man in the water!" he shouted but realised that there was nobody nearer than him.

Tim always exceeded the NCIS physical requirements but that was due to hard work and perseverance rather than the natural athleticism of a Gibbs or DiNozzo and he felt daunted at the responsibility that faced him now. He kept running, however,  _towards_  the need rather than away, trying to keep calm as he scanned the water hoping to see a perfectly cut head of hair bobbing up and down.

As Tim stretched his legs and pumped his arms he suddenly realised that he was still clutching the Transformer lunch box and for a moment wished he could transform  _himself_  into some athletic super machine. He was about to toss the lunch box aside when, unbidden, the picture of him shooting hoops with uncharacteristic accuracy that morning came to mind. And, according to Ducky, it was all down to nutter butters!

Almost without thinking he wrenched a cookie from his lunch box and stuffed it in his mouth before throwing everything else away as he continued to run toward the pier. Even as he swallowed the nutter butter he remembered Ducky's dire warnings about the unpredictability of the compound which Victor had used and, absurdly, his mom's strict rule against not eating immediately before swimming. Then he remembered how he had wobbled unsteadily in front of Tony's cabin earlier in the day and he knew that he had made a terrible mistake and that Tony would die as a result.

Tim's mind might be having doubts but his body was still intent on racing to the rescue and as he ran, Tim became aware of a great clarity sweeping through him and another picture flashed into his mind. This time he remembered the drive down from DC, the feeling he had of being one with the car, hyper aware of everything that was going on around him: Tim believed he had never driven so well in his life and he knew, without doubt, that he could rescue Tony.

In a shorter time than he had thought possible his feet were pounding the wooden boards of the pier. Unlike Tony, he had no desire to dance or write poetry; he was focussed on one thing only. He reached the spot from which he thought Tony had taken his dive and stopped to look over the edge but he couldn't see anything except the bobbing waves. In a moment he had made his decision and jumped in the ocean and kicked strongly towards the surface. When his head broke through the waves he looked around him but there was no sign of Tony so he dived down again to try and catch sight of his missing co-worker.

NCISNCIS

The shock of landing in the cold water jolted Tony out of his stupor and he managed to kick for the surface. Once there, however, he realised that his limbs were leaden and were reluctant to obey his commands. The waves pushed him under the pier and after a moment or two, he realised that might be his best chance of survival as he was able to grab hold of one of the pier supports although he lacked the energy to use it to climb up out of the water.

He flung his arms round the post and sighed with relief but the cold water soon stopped stimulating his senses and lethargy returned and his grasp on the wooden support loosened. The waves pushed and pulled his body and he found himself enjoying a sense of being rocked almost as if he was being lulled in a cradle. One part of his brain tried to warn him against this relaxation but he was too tired to listen to it and instead allowed himself to be tossed to and fro against the pier.

Tim, meanwhile, was still searching for Tony. As he surfaced from his tenth dive down to look for him, Tim had another moment of insight, he stopped his manic activity and let the waves take him where they wanted hoping they would push him in the same direction they had sent Tony. He had a moment or two of panic when he realised that he was being pushed under the pier but he forced himself to keep calm and trust in his enhanced powers. He peered around him and, just as he was about to give up and swim back out, he caught a glimpse of something clinging loosely to a lump of wood.

"Tony!" he shouted and swam towards him.

"McMarlin!" Tony beamed at him in welcome, "Hi!"

Tim realised that the nutter butter effect was beginning to wane as even his increased intellectual capacity couldn't grasp why Tony was calling him Marlin.

"What?" he spluttered.

" _Finding Nemo_ ," slurred Tony, "Marlin finds Nemo. Didn't you come to find me?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Tim, "let's get you out of this before Bruce the shark comes along."

"He's a  _vegetarian_ shark," said Tony earnestly, "we'd be OK. But you're right, he does relapse sometimes, p'raps we'd better go."

"Give me your arm," ordered McGee.

"Why?" said Tony, "where are we going? What are we doing here anyway? I thought we were going to have lunch."

Tim seemed to remember there was a fish in  _Finding Nemo_  who suffered from memory loss and he began to think he had more in common with Marlin than he realised. He sighed and tried to pull Tony away again.

"Wait," said Tony, "I've lost Kate. And Ziva! We need to find them too," and to Tim's alarm he put his head under the water as if to look for them.

"Millie's looking after them," lied Tim when Tony’s head popped up again, "they're waiting for you at the café."

Tony peered suspiciously at Tim, "are you fibbing? I don't believe you."

"Millie's made you a lasagne," said Tim cunningly.

Tony thought this over and seemed to be wavering.

"With garlic bread," said Tim with sudden inspiration.

This was the winning touch, "OK," said Tony, happily sacrificing fishy Kate and Ziva to his stomach and allowing Tim to tow him out from the pier. As they emerged from under the pier, Tim could see people gathering on the beach and decided to make for them rather than work out how to climb up on to the pier. He felt a tug on his arm and saw Tony sinking beneath the water; he managed to pull him up quickly but realised that he couldn't expect any help from Tony in getting to the shore.

Fortunately the tide was coming in and helped wash Tony and Tim to the beach. Tim felt the nutter butter effect wearing off more quickly than it had earlier in the day and he just managed to reach the beach before complete exhaustion claimed him. As his eyes closed, he saw people clustering round Tony and he knew he had done all that he could.

NCISNCIS

"It is as I thought, the effects of the insidious compound varied greatly according to the physiology of the person who ingested it. For Timothy it seemed to cause heightened awareness, clarity of thought and enhanced physical abilities whereas for Anthony it did the reverse …"

Tony emerged from a deep sleep to hear Ducky discoursing on Victor's invention. He opened his eyes to find that he was tucked up in bed in his cabin and that Dr Murray, Ducky, Tim and Gibbs were sitting at his kitchen table nursing hot drinks.

"Might have to get some of that chemical," said Gibbs drily, "it seems to shut DiNozzo up!"

"You didn't hear him arguing with me under the pier," argued Tim, "I could have done with him being quiet then."

"Tut, tut," said Ducky, "Jethro, I'm surprised at you suggesting that we drug Anthony! You can't pretend you weren't concerned, the way you drove us down here to make sure all was well. Besides, you forget that we witnessed you terrifying Victor in interrogation. Timothy, I suggest you watch the recording when you have a chance. I must say, it was a master class in intimidation. Victor cracked like the proverbial egg. So, Jethro, you can't pretend that you  _approve_  of Anthony being drugged!"

Gibbs shrugged modestly. Privately he didn't think that Victor had been a worthy opponent but he had made the mistake of endangering the MCRT and that demanded a response of the greatest magnitude.

"Never cross a chemist," announced Tony authoritatively and alerting everyone to his return to consciousness.

"Anthony!" said Ducky with delight, "at last! You have been enjoying a rather long sleep. And don't worry, you hardly said anything during your slumbers."

"DiNozzo. Bout time you woke up. You're not much of a host, you know," said Gibbs with a characteristic half smile.

Dr Murray was clearly enjoying himself. He hadn't had this much fun since Tony's last visit to Milsom Bay.

"Well, my boy," he said, "Like I said, you certainly liven this place up. Millie's doing a roaring trade at the café with everyone wanting to know what happened. The Milsom Bay Ladies' Lunch Club want to book you and McGee to talk at their next meeting and the Minister is going to invite you to talk in church about your experiences: he wants to tie it in with talking about Jonah and the Whale."

"Right," said Tony uncertainly and then winced as some aches and pains made themselves known.

"Ah, yes," said Ducky sorrowfully, "I fear you have a number of bumps and scratches from colliding with the pier on numerous occasions. But there is nothing broken, you'll be pleased to know."

"Didn't hurt at the time," moaned Tony, "it felt quite restful, being carried by the waves."

"Yes," said Ducky, "that was the effect the Victor compound had on you. I wonder, Dr Murray, whether you have ever come across such varied reactions to one chemical …' and he began a learned discussion with the other doctor.

"Hey, Tim," said Tony as his still sluggish brain caught up with what had happened, "did you come and rescue me?"

"Sort of," admitted Tim.

"What do you mean 'sort of'?" asked Tony, "I distinctly remember you swimming towards me like a knight in shining armour. Although armour wouldn't have been very practical for swimming in. You did come, didn't you or was that a dream?"

"No, it wasn't a dream," said Tim, "you called me Marlin. And talked about Bruce the vegetarian shark."

Tony looked mortified, "I did a  _children's_ movie reference?"

"'Fraid so," said Tim, "but your secret's safe with me."

"You still haven't said what you meant by 'sort of' rescuing me," said Tony.

"It was the nutter butter," said Tim.

Tony shook his head and realised that something was more off than he'd realised.

"Victor laced the nutter butters," Gibbs told him.

"That's what stimulated Timothy and sedated you," said Ducky joining in the conversation again as Dr Murray had left to spread the good news of Tony's return to the land of the living.

"That b … b … b …," spluttered Tony.

"Biochemist?" offered Tim.

"Not the word I was going for," admitted Tony, "but we'll settle for that if you want. But I still don't understand. Nutter butters did for us both. How did they save me?"

Tim flushed. "I knew I wouldn't be able to save you on my own. I wasn't going to be fast enough or strong enough to get to you in time. And then I remembered that when I was 'under the influence' …"

"When you were nuttered … or is it buttered?" broke in Tony.

"When I'd eaten a nutter butter before I was better at doing things," said Tim, "so I decided to eat another one."

"My word, Timothy," said Ducky, "I don't know whether that was brave or foolhardy. You heard me say how unpredictable the chemical was and yet you still ate it."

"Had to risk it, Ducky," said Tim, "it was the only way I could get to Tony in time."

"Wow, thanks McHero," said Tony, "wow!"

"Good job, Tim," praised Gibbs.

Tim shrugged modestly.

"Good job," continued Gibbs, "but Victor only had enough stuff to lace two nutter butters. The one you ate last night and the one you gave Tony today."

"But … but …" stuttered Tim, "I felt great after I ate it."

"Mind over matter, my dear Timothy," said Ducky, "your mind thought you would develop enhanced abilities as a result of consuming the cookie and your body responded accordingly. It is really remarkable. If Victor was not facing a prison sentence it is something he could profitably do research into. Ah well."

Tim continued to look stunned as he tried to come to terms with what he had done in an undrugged state.

"Hey," said Tony suddenly, "I've just realised that you  _poisoned_ me, McGremlin. You really wanted to ruin my weekend, didn't you? Woke me up at the crack of dawn, turned my kitchen upside down, poisoned me  _and_  stole my bacon and eggs. Way to go, McGee, way to go!"

"Well, if you had the reactions of a  _normal_  person," retaliated Tim, "you wouldn't have decided to do a Fred Astaire and swan dive off the pier. At least when I was drugged I did things better than normal!"

Ducky and Gibbs nodded at each other knowingly and returned to the kitchen table so that they didn't see Tim and Tony briefly shake hands in acknowledgement of what they had really done for one another.

"You see, Jethro," said Ducky, "I think it was Victor's use of hallucinogenic isotopes which was the most radical element of his enterprise."

Tony caught the words as he had when he had first heard Tim's ramblings at the crack of dawn.

"Where did those halogen ice cubes fit in?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" asked McGee.

"What Ducky was just saying," said Tony defensively, "he said Victor used halogen ice cubes."

"Hallucinogenic isotopes, Anthony," corrected Ducky, "halogen ice cubes would be something else entirely."

"And would probably have been poisonous," said Tim, "well, poisonous in a different way to what his stuff was."

"Oh," said Tony sadly.

"Why did you want halogen ice cubes, Tony?" asked Gibbs gently, having not really understood Ducky's explanations.

"I thought. Well, I thought, that light up ice cubes in a martini might be quite cool," said Tony, "you know, create a certain romantic ambience. Women go for that sort of thing."

NCISNCIS

On their first day back at work, Tim got to the office early but found Tony had got there first. On his desk was the biggest pack of nutter butters he had ever seen. There was an envelope attached: Tim opened it and found it contained a note and a key,

"McNoisy, here's a key to the cabin. Save you banging on the door and waking me up at the crack of dawn next time. Thanks. Tony."

Tim smiled. He appreciated the key to the cabin but thought he might have gone off nutter butters. He walked over to Tony's desk and handed Tony a package,

"Here, Tony, some of those hallucinogenic isotopes you wanted."

Tony looked alarmed and Tim took pity on him, "Halogen ice cubes, Tony, well sort of. They light up well".

"Thanks, McGee," said Tony.

"Thank  _you_ , Tony," said Tim, hoping that Tony realised he was saying thank you for more than the nutter butters and the cabin key. Tim had been puzzled that his supercharged, superefficient and hyperaware brain had sent him all the way to North Carolina to find Tony on the night of Victor's revenge but he was beginning to think it had known exactly what it was doing.

Tony gave Tim a disconcertingly penetrating stare and then nodded,

"So," he said, "how do these things work, McEinstein. I've got a hot date tonight and these are going to set my place off perfectly."

 


End file.
